


to live fearlessly

by luxluminaire



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxluminaire/pseuds/luxluminaire
Summary: Sam has two goals for the summer: adjusting to her new job at the AM and navigating how to stay friends with Mark in the aftermath of their breakup. But between that and taking an opportunity to expand the scope of what she can do with her ability, she eventually comes to a realization about her feelings for Joan that threatens to upend the entire balance of her life. Because nothing good can ever come out of falling for your co-worker/friend/former therapist/ex-boyfriend's sister, right? (She's wrong about that, by the way.)
Relationships: Samantha Barnes/Joan Bright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warning:** This fic as a whole contains canon-typical discussions and depictions of anxiety and panic attacks.
> 
> Also, although this fic sets up a couple of things about Sam and the AM that later come into play in The AM Archives, it contains no major spoilers for TAMA and you don't need to have listened to that series to read this fic. (And if you've already listened to TAMA or plan to do so now that it's being widely released, this fic is for the most part canon-compliant with TAMA - except for the very much non-canon ship, of course.)
> 
> Finally, I recommend the song ["Map on a Wall" by Lucy Dacus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmL9C68jPyQ) as a musical accompaniment to this fic, because IMO it's a great song for post-TBS Sam (and it provides the source of this fic's title).

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

The AM facilities loom in front of Sam where she sits in the front seat of Joan’s car. From the outside the building is unremarkable: nondescript enough to not stand out to the average person who does not know about the organization’s purpose, but legitimate-looking enough to not elicit suspicion from those who seek the AM’s assistance. Behind the unassuming exterior, however, lies the terrible secret of how some atypicals in the AM’s care have been imprisoned and mistreated for the supposed crime of possessing a special ability. Sam is here to try to rectify those mistakes and provide the atypical perspective that has previously been lacking in the AM’s leadership, but changing a deeply flawed system is a daunting task.

“You’re more than ready for it,” Joan tells her. “You wouldn’t have agreed to take the job if you weren’t. And you could have backed out at any time if you truly thought it was a bad idea.”

“After hearing your whole impassioned speech about how you need to stop the bleeding from inside the AM, I don’t think I could have ever refused the offer,” Sam replies. “But still, we’re both voluntarily going to work for the organization that kept Mark as a prisoner for years, _and_ you’ll now be directly working with your ex-boyfriend who you had an extremely messy breakup with. On paper, that’s definitely a recipe for disaster.”

“That’s only your nerves talking,” says Joan in gentle reassurance. “And it’s okay to feel unprepared for something like this. New jobs are always a little anxiety-inducing.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Ordinary people, however, don’t have to worry about disappearing if they become too anxious on their first day of work. Even though Sam has not had any major panic attacks since that one morning with Mark three weeks ago, she still lives with the constant worry of what she will do if she gets pulled into an involuntary trip when she cannot dash into a bathroom or empty room to vanish into the past privately. The AM has seen all kinds of strange and unusual behavior from their clients, but she doubts they are used to dealing with employees who could disappear at any moment.

Joan frowns at the lack of conviction in her response. “Take a deep breath if you need to,” she says. “You can do this.”

Sam takes a long inhale of breath and exhales it slowly. “Right. I can do this. _We_ can do this.” She wipes her sweaty palms on the legs of her pants. “It’s just reforming a highly flawed and corrupt organization. How hard can it be?”

“We'll just take it one step at a time, Sam.”

They get out of the car and enter the building. As Sam passes through the front doors and into the lobby, she realizes that this is the first time that she has physically been inside the AM facilities. A few weeks ago she had only gone as far as the parking lot, waiting with Mark while Joan and Green confronted Wadsworth with her misdeeds, and due to her unusual path to getting hired, all of her previous meetings with Green have taken place offsite. In terms of non-physical visits, however, she knows the place like the back of her hand. In addition to the many times that she has visited the AM in the past for research purposes, last night she took a trip solely to wander the building’s halls, obtaining a full sense of its layout to avoid getting lost during her first few days at work. Experience has taught her that preparedness is one of the best defenses against the unknown, and this situation is no exception.

“Joan! Sam!”

A familiar voice calls out to them as they enter the lobby. Green is striding toward them, looking the same as ever, if a little harried. Sam has not yet grown accustomed to hearing him call her by her first name after months of the distant and polite “Ms. Barnes” during their phone check-ins. She can’t help but wonder if the sense of familiarity is a trap, even though she knows that he has nothing but good intentions in his friendlier treatment of her.

“Director Green,” Joan says, smiling almost teasingly around the new title.

He laughs nervously. “Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to get used to this whole ‘Director’ business.” 

“Just give it time,” Joan replies. “You’re still new to the job, after all.”

“I don’t suppose I’m going to convince you to officially take on the ‘Director’ title as well?” Green asks.

“You know I’m more than happy to help you run this place as your co-director, but I’ll always be a psychologist first and foremost. You’re stuck with ‘Dr. Bright’ for the foreseeable future, I’m afraid.”

Sam notes the genuine cordialness that has sprung up in their interactions since they teamed up to take down Wadsworth. Green gazes upon Joan with a certain amount of fondness that makes Sam wonder if he still holds some degree of romantic feelings for her despite the difficult circumstances of their breakup years ago. A strange weight settles in Sam’s stomach as her thoughts turn to Mark and their own agreement to take some time apart.

“Anyway,” Green is saying, and Sam snaps her attention back to him. “I just wanted to take the time to welcome you before things get too busy. Headquarters has been keeping a very close eye on the place since Wadsworth left, so for the past week I’ve been swamped with calls and meetings and… Well, it’s nothing I can’t handle. But I’m certainly glad that the two of you are here to help lighten my workload a little.” He gives a tired sigh, even though the day has barely begun. “At the very least, I’d love to personally give you a tour of the facilities later this morning, Sam. Since this _is_ your first time here.”

“Oh, um…” Sam hesitates, not wanting to sound rude. “I’ve technically seen most of the place already. Just, you know, in the past.” She does not elaborate, unsure of how much Green knows about the much-more-than-a-few times she has taken trips to the AM in what some people would classify as spying. “I wouldn’t want you to take time out of your day to—”

“Ah. Right.” Green clears his throat. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll just make sure you know where to find your office.”

“I have an office?” Sam says in disbelief, having not anticipated getting a space that is entirely hers when all she needs for her work is a desk, a computer, and access to the AM’s databases and resources. “Like, my _own_ office?”

“Of course you do.” Green smiles warmly at her. “If we’re going to make sure that our atypical clients receive the best care possible, we should also make sure that our atypical employees are getting all the best perks as well.”

From anyone else, the words would have sounded like the epitome of stale corporate promises, but there’s something so earnest about Green that raises no doubts about his genuineness. It’s certainly an improvement over Wadsworth’s approach to running the AM, although Sam isn’t sure how far such sincere conviction can get him in his leadership.

“Well, um, that’s great to hear,” she manages to say. “And thanks for the offer to show me around. Seriously.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” Green replies, still beaming with his desire to be a good boss to his new employee. “Shall we get the two of you settled in, then?”

It doesn’t take much more than an hour for Sam to go through the process of getting her ID badge and keycard, along with ensuring that all of her employee information is properly entered into the system. With no major obligations until the afternoon, when she has meetings first with Green and then with a few senior members of the research staff, she spends the rest of the morning setting up her work computer in her new office. Most of the AM’s systems and databases are already familiar to her from when she’d been able to break into the servers to access certain files remotely, but she still has several months’ worth of her own research to transfer and organize. If her entire job was like this, compiling data and research about atypicals like she has been doing since last fall, she would be happy forever, but she also recognizes that this new position is the perfect opportunity for her to foster more “people skills” in her work.

It is with this sense of determination that she stands outside Green’s office after her lunch break. She has nothing to be nervous about, she tells herself as she approaches the door. She already knows that this meeting will mostly focus on going over the documents that outline the plans that she and Joan had for their own version of the AM. There is no unknown element here when all evidence shows that Green will be nothing but receptive to her ideas, but the anxious part of her brain still reminds her that something could go wrong, that maybe she will lose control over her ability and Green will realize that he has made a mistake in hiring her.

Sam peers around the corner of the open office door and sees Green at his desk, currently unaware of her presence. She taps a fist against the door frame in a quiet knock, and as she opens her mouth to speak she realizes that she does not know what to call him. Her automatic instinct of “Agent Green” no longer accurately reflects his position, but “Director Green” doesn’t yet feel right. It also feels rude to call him simply “Green” to his face, and even though he has comfortably settled into addressing her by her first name, she cannot yet bring herself to do the same.

“Hi, you wanted to see me?” she ventures instead, deciding to sidestep the problem by not calling him anything at all.

Green looks up from his work. “Oh, yes—Come in, Sam. And close the door behind you, please. We have a lot to go over.”

Sam steps into the office and obediently shuts the door so that they are less likely to be interrupted. The interior of the room is simple in its decor but still feels inviting as she sits in the chair in front of Green’s desk. She wonders if he has moved into this particular office after assuming the position of Director, taking over the space in Wadsworth’s absence, or if he has kept the same office even after his promotion.

“How has your first day been so far?” Green asks. “You’re settling in well, I hope?”

Sam nods. “It’s been good. Just enough excitement to keep things interesting.” She’s not sure if organizing her office counts as excitement, but she doesn't want to sound like she has had nothing to do during her first day on the job.

“Good, good,” Green replies, sufficiently pleased with her response. He opens a file folder on his desk. “Now, I’ve spent the past week going over all of the information that you and Joan gave me. I’m impressed with how in-depth some of your proposals go.”

“I know it’s a lot of stuff to go through,” Sam says. “Most of it is just hypothetical ideas, and I have no clue how they would be actually implemented, so…” She stops there, realizing that she has fallen into her familiar habit of not giving herself enough credit for her work. “But I hope there’s at least something in there that’s useful.”

“I’d say there’s more than just ‘something.’” He flips through a few pages of the file. “Your atypical perspective alone is going to be invaluable as we move forward. It… Well, let’s just say it’s a glaring oversight that the AM hasn’t previously prioritized the input of atypicals for our policies and procedures. And that’s why I’m glad you’ve agreed to work with us, Sam. You can help us really make a change here.”

His words remind her of the first few calls she’d had with him last fall when he was merely the AM agent assigned to check on her to ensure that she hasn’t been misusing her ability. Back then he’d been so eager to show her the AM’s benefits, encouraging her to come to the facility and meet with him to discuss some programs that might help her. She has learned to trust him a little more since then, but she remains unsure if he is truly capable of advocating for all atypicals or if he will continue to turn a blind eye toward the treatment of certain so-called “dangerous” individuals in order to maintain his picture-perfect image of an organization that helps atypicals gain control and stability.

“You don’t think this is weird, do you?” Sam asks. “Sorry, I know that’s really blunt for me to say. But I feel like we can’t ignore how less than a year ago you were scolding me for hacking into the AM’s systems and I was threatening to do a database dump to expose all of the awful things that have been done here. It’s not exactly what I’d call a normal dynamic between a boss and his employee.”

“Well, forgive me for assuming, but I would have expected that by now you’re quite used to the abnormal,” Green says. “And…” He hesitates, unnecessarily straightening one of the cuffs of his suit jacket before clearing his throat and continuing. “I know my apologies won’t erase anything, but I am truly sorry for my complicitness in what happened to Mark. We made a mistake with him, and now it is my responsibility to ensure that we don’t make that same mistake again. With help from you and Joan, of course. None of us can do this alone.”

Sam realizes that he must be unaware that her relationship with Mark has recently ended, but now doesn’t seem like the best time to bring it up with him. Instead she sees the earnestness upon his face and believes his promise to do better, because she respects the integrity that it takes for him to own up to mistakes even if his words are couched in the platitude of the importance of working together.

“Thank you, Director,” she says. The title slips out despite how strange it feels to call him that. “I guess the three of us make for one _really_ unorthodox team, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do. And you don’t have to call me Director, by the way. You’re free to call me Owen if you wish. I want us to feel like equals here.”

“Thanks, but… Well, I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet,” Sam admits. “But I’m sure I’ll get there someday,” she then adds, not wanting to seem like she is unwilling to be a team player.

“Very well, then,” he says with a kind smile. “Now, let’s get to business.” He folds his hands together on the surface of his desk. “Like I said before, I think your input will be essential for moving forward into a new era at this division. I’m especially interested in what you have to say about your ideas for having more atypicals on staff.”

“I know it’s not entirely feasible,” Sam says. “There’s probably not a ton of overlap between the general atypical population and atypicals who are willing to take jobs at the AM. But I still think it’s important for the clients to have the support of people like them who aren’t fellow patients, because there will always be things about the atypical experience that non-atypicals will never understand. And no offense, but if you had atypicals in leadership positions I highly doubt that something like the Tier 5 experiments would have happened.”

“No, I agree with you,” says Green, although a trace of discomfort crosses his expression at the mention of Tier 5. “Wadsworth was certainly never interested in making the environment overly welcoming to our clients. She was always on my case about spending too much time with our new arrivals so that they would always have a friendly and familiar face to look to. Even as Director I’m not interested in perpetuating an unfriendly or overly corporate environment, and I’m sure having atypicals on staff that the clients can interact with will make our programs seem less scary or overwhelming to them.”

His positive response eases some of Sam’s worries. “Yeah, I think that’s definitely a good start,” she replies. “But the big problem is still how you’re going to get those atypicals on staff in the first place. I can’t imagine the AM doing broad recruitments with how secretive everything around here is. Joan told me that the first steps of the hiring process don’t usually mention atypicals at all. It’s just made to look like they’re looking for people to fill positions at a nonprofit organization. Which means you can’t exactly put ‘has a superhuman ability’ under the job requirements, right?”

“Yes, that is indeed something we’ll have to figure out,” Green says. “But it’s certainly possible. In fact, we have another atypical besides you on staff right now, and she was hired through our usual process.”

Sam sits up straighter in her seat, her interest piqued. “Wait, really?”

“She’s a low-level telekinetic who works in HR. She completed a Tier 1 program with us several years ago, and we must have made a good enough impression for her to later apply for a job here. Of course, she wasn’t chosen to work for us because of her ability—in fact, I’m not sure any of us would have even known that she’s atypical if her name hadn’t already been in our files from her time as a patient. But my point is that there _is_ a precedent for atypicals working for us. Creating a team of atypicals will be a much greater challenge, but I believe it will be a good step forward for us.”

“Exactly,” Sam says. “We should be giving the atypicals who come here opportunities to connect with people like them who have been through some of the same struggles they have and come out the other side. I spent so much of my life thinking that I was alone in having a special ability until I met other atypicals, and if I can make sure that no one else ever has to feel the same loneliness that I did, then I know that I’m doing at least _some_ amount of good work here.”

She has not intended to be so impassioned in her response, but she needs to prove to Green that her desire to change the AM comes from a very personal place. Her relationships with other atypicals have been an essential part of her growing understanding of how she fits into this strange universe. She has a feeling that if she had come to the AM for help instead of Joan, she would not have found the same sense of community that she now has with the friends that she has made in the past year.

“It’s a good goal to have,” says Green. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure that the AM can become that kind of place for our clients.” He then gives a small chuckle. “You know, I’m starting to see why you and Joan make such a good team. You… Well, you have the same passion for your work that she does. It’s wonderful to see.”

“It’s all thanks to her that I even reached this point,” Sam replies. “She’s…” She hesitates, unsure of what word to use to describe Joan when she has always been a complex woman. “Extraordinary” is what she soon settles on, which is enough to cover the full breadth of who Joan is in spite of her flaws and mistakes.

“Yes. She truly is.” Green clears his throat and presses onward past the reminder of what he has lost. “Anyway, going back to your proposal for hiring more atypicals to work for the AM. It’ll take a while to implement, because I’m going to have to get approval from HQ first and right now their priority is conducting an extensive review of this division, but I’m sure we’ll have their support in no time.”

Sam isn’t sure whether she shares his optimism, especially because the top staff at the AM’s national headquarters are the same people who readily promoted Wadsworth despite all of the terrible things that she has done in the AM’s name. In all of the upheaval of starting this new job, Sam has forgotten about the upcoming evaluation being conducted here, and she can’t help but wonder how she will fit into HQ’s perception of this division when she has not yet received any official AM training or even undergone a formal job interview.

“Do you think HQ will be okay with me working so closely with you and Joan?” she asks. “I mean, I don’t even have a code name. They’re not going to think that’s some kind of security or privacy risk, are they?”

Green frowns. “Hmm. I didn’t think about that. I suppose we _could_ get you a code name if necessary, but the situation surrounding your hiring process was unique enough to begin with that I think they’ll give you a pass. Besides, you have a solid background in information science, and your ability allowed you to bring us several months’ worth of research that the AM could have never compiled on its own. They’d be making a huge mistake to not realize how valuable of an asset you are. No, not an asset,” he corrects himself. “A member of our team.”

His correction heartens her as they continue to discuss their ideas for the AM’s future. As much as she wants to bring up the question of Tier 5, Joan has already warned her that they should not rush into addressing the issue of what to do with the atypicals who remain there. Although even Green agrees that the experiments done in Tier 5 were unethical and that some atypicals like Mark should have never been there in the first place, there are many cases that are not as clear-cut and require further evaluation. Sam has been told that at the very least they have to wait to make any decisions until after HQ has completed their review of the division, and she suspects that every employee with more authority than her will hide behind excuses like “It’s a complex situation” even though non-atypicals should never have the final say in the fate of atypicals who have been mistreated at their hands.

“Well, Sam, I think we’re off to a good start,” Green says after they have gone through all of the relevant notes and files on his desk. “Between these proposals and the measures that HQ suggests when they evaluate the branch, I’m confident that we’ll be able to make this place much different than the one that Wadsworth left behind. It will take a lot of work, but I know that you and Joan are more than up for the challenge. And so am I.”

Despite her initial impression of Green being a spineless bureaucrat who is only interested in toeing the company line and following the status quo, Sam is glad to have been proven wrong with his eagerness to make a change. His words mean nothing without actions to back them up, but at least he has her and Joan to hold him accountable for his promises.

“Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you here much longer,” he continues. “I’m sure you have other things on your schedule this afternoon. But we’ll talk again soon.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Sam says.

She takes her leave from Green’s office, and she has just enough time to mentally regroup in her own office before she has to dash off to her next meeting with the research staff. The researchers that she meets seem nice enough and are very much interested in the work that she is doing, but having to deal with so much human interaction in a relatively short period of time leaves her exhausted. She has anticipated that this job will be a bit of an adjustment for her after having spent her entire adult life thus far working from the comfort of her own home, but until now she has not fully realized how much of a social drain her position will be. She remembers her determination to be more confident in this new stage of her life, however, and so she vows to rise to the challenge of stepping out of her comfort zone.

She ends her day in Joan’s office, where she waits for her to finish a few last-minute tasks before they head home. As she sits in front of Joan’s desk and takes in the room around her, she notices that Joan has already set up a few pieces of decor from her old office to further personalize her space. In particular, her attention is drawn to the clock that had been such an integral part of the sonic landscape during Sam’s appointments with her.

“Oh my God, your clock,” she says with a burst of fond nostalgia.

Joan raises her eyebrows in curiosity. “What about it?”

“Oh, it’s just that back when I was your patient and you’d do guided meditations with me, I’d always focus on the ticks of the clock whenever you wanted me to anchor myself to something in the room. So now whenever I hear that clock, it’s like I’ve become conditioned to feel a little calmer.”

“Well, there are certainly worse associations your brain could make,” says Joan. “I’m glad you’ve found at least one constant between my old office and this one.”

“All it needs is a couch that I have to ask whether I’m required to lie down on it during our sessions,” Sam replies, remembering her nervous ramblings during her first appointment with Joan. “Although I guess there’s still plenty of space if you ever wanted to move more furniture in here. These offices are a lot bigger than I expected.”

“The AM _does_ treat their employees well.” The words leave Joan’s mouth with begrudging resignation. “Speaking of which, how has your first day been?”

“It’s been…” Sam hesitates, searching for the best word to describe her experience. “It’s been a lot. But not necessarily in a bad way. There have definitely been a few times when I’ve mentally stepped back and thought, ‘Wow, am I seriously working here?’ If someone told me even a month ago that I would be in this position now, I would have never believed them, but now here I am.”

“Yes, I understand the feeling,” says Joan.

“Is it weird to be back?” Sam asks. Something about seeing Joan at her desk in this office seems so natural, as if she has belonged here at the AM all along. Sam is sure that Joan would not entirely agree, especially after everything that she has said against the AM while working independently, but both of them know that this is the best place for them and the work that they are doing. “After all, you spent so long insisting that you were never going to willingly set foot in this place again.”

“It’s certainly surreal, to say the least,” Joan replies. “And I’m sure that when word inevitably reaches Wadsworth at headquarters that I’ve taken this job not even two weeks after she left, she won’t be happy.”

“What does it matter?” Sam doesn’t harbor any illusions of fully understanding the intricacies of Joan and Wadsworth’s history, but she does know that Joan is very good at letting Wadsworth worm her way into her head. “She’s not in charge anymore. You don’t have to care about what she thinks.”

“Yes, but she spent months trying to convince me to rejoin her here.” Joan stands up from her desk, turning to face away from Sam. One of her hands remains resting on the top of her desk, and her grip tightens against its surface as she continues to speak. “I have no doubt that she’ll see it as some kind of betrayal that I took Owen’s offer but not hers.”

“It’s a completely different situation with Green, though,” Sam points out. “I mean, he’s not blameless either, but I can tell that he genuinely wants to improve things here. During my meeting with him earlier today, he was definitely on board with hiring more atypicals and creating a better support network for the patients, as long as he gets the approval from HQ. I have a feeling Wadsworth would have never gone for something like that.”

“Indeed. She’s only ever been interested in making moves that give her more power or information, no matter who she has to step on in the process.” Joan turns around to face Sam once more. “That’s why I could never accept this position if it meant working with her. I’ve already done enough morally questionable things in the name of my goals. Some of them I don’t regret, but it’s a path I don’t want to go down again. But I’m sure that if I was working alongside Wadsworth, it would be all too easy for me to fall back into those habits.”

Sam is all too familiar with the fear of going down a dark path after some of the things she has done to protect the people she cares about. “You’re not, you know,” she says. “Going to fall back into those habits, I mean. And I understand being afraid of what lines you’re willing to cross. But Mark is safe, or at least as safe as he’s ever going to be, and now you can help atypicals in a way that’s a lot more immediate than us fumbling in the dark trying to build our own organization. And you’ll have me and Green to keep you in line. We’ll _all_ be keeping each other in line,” she corrects herself. “I think the three of us will definitely benefit from having some accountability between us, especially because it sounds like no one was doing that for Wadsworth.”

A small smile breaks through the seriousness upon Joan’s face. “Since when are you the one encouraging me?”

“I’m allowed to encourage you,” Sam replies, unable to resist taking offense.

Joan’s smile grows wider. “I’m teasing you, Sam,” she says. “And I’m glad you’re here to remind me that I’m capable of doing good work. If you can still stand to be my partner in all of this after the ways that I used you early in our relationship, then I know that I must be doing at least _something_ right. Not that I always expect easy forgiveness for my actions,” she then adds. “I’m not naive enough to think that my past mistakes were completely erased from the moment that you and I became friends. But it’s heartening regardless.”

“Partners, huh?” Sam asks, fixated on that one word. “Is that really what we still are? I mean, it made sense when it was you and me creating our own organization. But it’s not just us anymore. We have the whole rest of the AM to deal with too.”

“Of course you’re still my partner, Sam. You’re the only person who I could have imagined having by my side as I walked into this building as a reinstated employee. From the moment that you agreed to help me save Mark despite my warnings about how dangerous it would be for you, I knew—or at least hoped—that you would always be on my team. And even though I still don’t trust the AM, I trust you, and I know that you’ll motivate me to do the best work I can do here.”

“Oh, um. Thank you.” Sam isn’t sure why Joan’s words have touched her so much. Maybe it’s because trust hasn’t always been an automatic given between them, and Sam knows that Joan does not grant her trust easily. “That means a lot.”

“But most importantly,” Joan says, “you’ve survived your first day here. And if you can make it through one day, then the rest will come just as easily. I promise”

“Right.” The words of encouragement settle inside Sam’s chest, making a home there that gives her the confidence to—well, not quite take on the entire world, but maybe just her new workplace to start. “One day down, so many more to go. This is only the beginning.”


	2. Chapter 2

No matter how bittersweet it will be for Sam to say goodbye to Mark, she knows that she will regret it if she does not see him one last time before he leaves.

They’d had the Big Talk after Sam took the job at the AM and Mark accepted a photography gig that would take him on the road until the fall, and it was a long and difficult conversation that came on the heels of so many other long and difficult conversations they’d had in the wake of their big fight. Although she’s fairly certain that the word “breakup” was never specifically uttered between them, plenty of other words clearly spelled out the status of their relationship with their agreement that they should take some time apart as their lives push them in new directions. The decision is for the best, she reminds herself whenever she feels the heartache of not having a perfect happily-ever-after ending with Mark. As wonderful as their time together has been, the past several weeks have proven that both of them have their fair share of individual issues that they need to work through, and perhaps they should have dealt with them before they moored their sinking ships together.

Although Mark is not leaving until the next morning, Sam has set aside some time on this Sunday evening to say her farewells to him without cutting into her work schedule. When she enters Joan’s apartment, she finds a surprisingly calm scene for the night before Mark uproots his life to spend multiple months away from home. The band tour does not officially begin until June, but Mark has already arranged to spend a few weeks with his old college friend Kayla where she is currently living in Brooklyn, crashing on the couch of her apartment while he takes the time to get to know the rest of the band and adjusts to a life without other atypicals in it. Sam remains worried about what he might encounter while he is traveling the country, but she has learned her lesson about trying too hard to be his protector.

“This doesn’t look like frantic packing to me,” she says by means of a greeting when she sees Mark and Joan both sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of tea in front of them.

“Well, with all of the time I’ll be spending on the road I’m going to have to pack light,” Mark replies. “Plus I don’t really have that much stuff to begin with. Starting your life over after five years of having pretty much nothing makes you realize how much you don’t need. I’ve gotten really good at the whole minimalism thing.”

And yet Sam is _still_ finding belongings of Mark’s that have migrated over to her house despite them having never officially lived together. She is fairly certain that she has returned everything to him by now—or, more accurately, she has given the items to Joan to pass on to him in order to avoid any emotionally fraught moments—but she wouldn’t be surprised if she continues to find small things that have been overlooked, like one of his socks that never made it out of the laundry room months ago.

“So, um,” she begins in a weak attempt to push through the awkward silence that has fallen between them. “Maybe we should…”

“You know, I _could_ use some help with packing,” Mark says. “I know you’re good at organizing stuff, so…”

Joan observes them over the top of the mug that she has been drinking from and gives a tiny jerk of her head in silent permission for them to go speak somewhere more private. Sam offers a small smile of gratitude in return before following Mark to his bedroom. Her fingers twitch back from her instinctive desire to take hold of his hand, having not yet broken the habit of being physically affectionate with him.

She has been inside Mark’s room surprisingly few times, since most of their nights together were spent first at her old apartment and then at her house. The space currently displays the messiness that she expects from someone in the middle of packing. A mostly empty suitcase lies in the middle of the room, and a pile of unfolded clothes is heaped on top of his unmade bed.

“Oh my God, why am I not surprised that you’ve barely started?” Sam says.

“Shh, not so loud,” Mark replies as he closes the door behind him. “I told Joanie I have everything under control, and she’ll never let me rest if she finds out that I’m not one hundred percent ready to walk out the door fifteen whole hours before my bus leaves.”

“So asking me to help you pack _wasn’t_ just a pretense to have an opportunity for us to talk privately, huh?”

Mark shrugs. “Who says it can’t be both?”

Taking advantage of having a task to guide her through the beginning of this conversation, Sam gestures toward the pile of clothes on the bed. “All right, let’s get started with these,” she says. “Are you taking all of them with you?”

“Yeah. They’re fresh out of the dryer from… well, a few hours ago, actually. Maybe we can handle it tag-team style? You fold, and I’ll load up the suitcase?”

Sam takes an armful of clothes and sits down on the floor next to the suitcase. Mark puts on some music from his phone and joins her, and although she doesn’t recognize the song or artist that is playing, she is grateful to have a distraction from sinking too deeply into overanalyzing this particular interaction between them. She feels strangely domestic right now, as if she has fallen back into the similar moments that she and Mark shared when they were unofficially living together. “Playing house,” Wadsworth called it during the first conversation that Sam had with her, and she hates how Wadsworth was right about how it would only be a matter of time before her relationship with Mark imploded. What remains must not be completely unsalvageable, however, because otherwise she wouldn’t be sitting next to him on his bedroom floor with a pile of clean clothes between them.

“So, this is kind of weird, right?” she finally says as she folds one of Mark’s T-shirts.

“I’m pretty sure you pointing out how weird it is only makes it weirder,” he replies.

“Well, it is.” She passes him the shirt, and their hands brush against each other for the briefest of moments before they mutually pull away from the touch. “Because I’m sitting here with you, and sometimes I feel like nothing’s changed, but actually _everything’s_ changed. And then I wonder what I’m even doing here in the first place.”

Mark adds the shirt to the suitcase. He remains facing away from her for what feels like a moment too long before turning to meet her eyes once more. “You’re here because I really do think that the two of us can be friends,” he says. “I mean, you’re always going to the person who saved me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to permanently cut you out of my life, even while we’re taking this time apart. And these kinds of things always have to be a little awkward before they get easier.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Sam takes another shirt from the pile to keep herself busy. “I just… I wish things could have gone differently. And I know part of it is my own fault for spiraling out of control the way that I did, but…”

“Sam.” Mark lays a hand on her shoulder, bridging the distance that she has been maintaining between them. “It’s okay. We’ve already had the hard conversations about how we both screwed up. There’s no use in rehashing all of it again. This is the last time I’ll be seeing you in person for months, and I’m not going to spend it with both of us crying about how much it sucks that things have to end this way.”

His touch makes Sam’s heart hurt even more. She’d once likened her love for Mark to having a constant stomach ache, a feeling that is more visceral and all-consuming than she’d ever believed to be possible. Loving someone whom she can no longer be with is an equally powerful emotion, as if she is mourning him even when he’s sitting right next to her. Maybe Mark is right in that things will get easier once they have some physical distance between them, but she suspects that the gaping void in her chest will not go away anytime soon.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll just focus on how I’m _definitely_ saving you from Joan’s wrath when she finds out that you’re not packed yet.”

“Hey, I would have gotten it done. Eventually.”

He cracks a smile as she tosses a half-folded shirt at him. He folds it more neatly and places it and the suitcase, and soon they have fallen back into the mundanities of ordinary conversation as if they’d never brought up the ghost of their relationship. After they have made their way through the pile of clothes, Mark rises to his feet and stretches his arms above his head with a yawn, as if fitting most of his wardrobe into a suitcase has taken everything out of him.

“Well, that’s enough of a head start for now,” he says. “At least I can truthfully say that no, I’m _not_ saving all my packing for an hour before I leave.”

“What would you ever do without me?” Sam teases from where she has now moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The words slip out of her mouth without any thought, and her heart lurches in regret when she realizes what she has said. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean it like that.”

She buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. The mattress sinks next to her as Mark joins her on the bed. When she lifts her head she sees him pulling back from where he’d been about to rest his hand above her knee in a gesture that used to be so automatic between them but would now be inappropriate.

“Hey, hey, hey. What did we say about not making this sad?” he says.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’m going to miss you. Both because you’ll be away and because we won’t be… well, _us_.”

“You know, it’s not like we’re never going to be able to talk to each other after I leave,” Mark reminds her. “I hear there’s this fancy invention called the cell phone that can do all kinds of newfangled things like FaceTime and Snapchat—”

“Mark, neither of us understands Snapchat no matter how many times Caleb and Adam explain it to us,” Sam says.

“You see? They’re so newfangled that us old folks don’t even know how they work.” His grin brings a small smile to her lips as well. “Plus I have those recordings that you made for me last summer, in case I ever want to hear your voice and we’re not able to talk on the phone. Obviously things aren’t the same between us as when you originally recorded them, but it’ll still be nice to have a familiar voice to listen to if I’m bored in the car or can’t sleep.”

“You always did like listening to me ramble,” Sam says with a bittersweet ache of fondness.

“I still do. That’s one thing that I don’t think is ever going to change.”

“Even when I’m rambling about the feelings that I had for you and maybe still have now, and we’ve since established that us getting together when we’re both a mass of unresolved issues in human form was probably not the best idea?”

“Even then,” Mark says. “And I wouldn’t go as far to say that we were a bad idea. We definitely both made some poor decisions when it came to dealing with all the shit that we’ve been through, but I don’t regret a single second of the time that we spent together.”

“Me neither,” Sam agrees. She then clears her throat to push past the flood of emotions inside her. “So, now that you have the whole packing situation a little more under control, should we go back out and join Joan? Otherwise she might think that we’re up to something.”

“Ah, yes, my nefarious scheme of getting someone to help me not procrastinate getting ready for tomorrow.” Mark stands up from the bed, his eyes sparkling with good humor. “I really duped you into that one, huh?”

“You’re far too devious for your own good, you know,” Sam says as she follows him out of the room.

Her original plan was to only stay long enough to give him a proper goodbye, but somehow she ends up seated around the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of her as she is pulled into Mark and Joan’s conversation. It has been too long since she has spent time with just the two of them, acting as the third wheel to the sibling bond that Sam will never be able to understand as an only child. There’s something about Joan that is more vulnerable and open whenever she is with Mark, like he is a bleeding wound that she must bear. Sam has seen how much Joan has changed since Mark reentered her life, and she hopes that his departure will not leave her purposeless in the face of accepting that her little brother does not need her protection anymore.

“I really should get going soon,” Sam eventually says when she looks at the clock and sees that it is far past the time that she initially intended to leave. She drinks the last swallow of tea from her mug and stands up from her chair. “Thanks for having me over. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Joan, and Mark…” She stops there, not wanting to give voice to how she doesn’t know when she will next see him.

“We’ll stay in touch,” he promises her. “And when I come home at the end of the summer, we’ll see how things are with us, okay?”

It’s the same agreement that they came to when they’d had the long and serious talk about the state of their relationship, but it seems so much more final to hear it now as they say goodbye. “Yeah, okay,” is all she can bring herself to say.

Mark rises from his seat and takes a few steps toward her. She hesitates before extending a hand to him in what is supposed to be a neutral handshake of farewell, because as much as she wants to hug him she is unsure whether she can bear the bittersweet pain of being held in his arms as nothing more than a friend. He mistakes her movement as her going in for a hug, and so their bodies collide in an awkward half-embrace that leaves both of them laughing nervously.

“Sorry, that was—”

“It’s okay, I just thought—”

Sam looks down at the floor as Mark clears his throat to fill the silence that has fallen between them. Joan must be getting quite the show right now, having a front-row seat to the uncomfortable dance that they are doing in the face of their farewell.

“No, you know what, that was bullshit,” Mark declares. “I’m not saying goodbye to you without giving you a proper hug. Come here.”

He holds his arms out to her expectantly. Sam settles into the warmth of his embrace, and for a moment she can believe that nothing has changed between them. She squeezes him tighter, wishing that she could go back to those simpler times. But nothing about loving him has ever been simple, and now she must learn to navigate this new ache that she holds in her heart.

“Well, I should let you head out,” Mark says when they let go of each other. He lifts a hand, and for a fleeting moment Sam thinks that he is going to reach out and tenderly stroke her face, but instead he gently punches her shoulder in an overly casual motion. “Take care, all right?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “You too.”

She turns away from him and walks toward the door. As her hand closes around the handle, she glances back to take a final look at him, and his melancholic smile is the last thing she sees before she faces the true test of being apart from him.

* * *

“So how was seeing Mark off this morning?” Sam asks Joan the next day in the latter’s office. “Was it as weird as it was when I came over last night?”

“I don’t think there was anything particularly weird about last night,” Joan replies. “Of course, I wasn’t aware of anything that the two of you said or did while you were in his room. Other than how you clearly encouraged his procrastination that led him to tearing up the apartment at seven-thirty this morning looking for things that he should have packed the night before.”

Sam laughs. “And he thought he was being _so_ sneaky about leaving some of his packing until the morning. I guess he can’t fool you after all.”

“When you’ve grown up with someone, you know their playbook inside and out. Honestly, I can’t say I was surprised.”

Joan shuffles through some of the files that she and Sam are supposed to be looking over. She has moved her old couch from her private practice into her new office to fill up some of the space, and the two of them are currently using it as a more comfortable and casual place for their work. The setup reminds Sam of when they were primarily working out of her house to develop their fledgling plans for their own organization. Even though less than a month has passed since they changed their trajectory and chose to work for the AM instead, she already feels like those days were part of a different stage of her life—doubly so now that Mark is gone in more ways than one. She wonders if the dual events of breaking up with him and starting a new job at the AM will become yet another dividing point in her life, just like she has the “before” and “after” of events like the accident, the first time that she walked into Joan’s office, and the first time that she saw Mark in 1810.

“If you’ll allow me a therapist moment,” says Joan. “It’s okay if you’re feeling strange or uncertain about how things are changing between you and Mark. A lot has happened over the past month, and it’s not always easy to transition into a changed relationship with someone, especially when physical distance is involved.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replies.

She takes the file that Joan has passed to her, but she cannot focus on looking it over when she has become more aware of the weight that sits heavily in her stomach. The words on the page grow hazy in her vision as she struggles with what to say next. The middle of a workday hardly seems like the best time for her to discuss personal matters, but she was the one who made this conversation personal in the first place when she asked about Mark. When she opens her mouth to speak, a question tumbles out before she can fully process what she is saying.

“Is it okay if I still love him?”

Joan’s expression softens into something that lies between sympathy and pity. “Of course it’s okay,” she replies. “These kinds of strong emotions don’t often fade easily. I have no doubt that you and Mark will always love each other in some way, even if your feelings end up taking on a new form over time. And even if you eventually find love with someone new, that doesn’t make what you felt for him any less real.”

Her response lightens the weight in Sam’s heart, but with it comes a renewed anxiety about what the future holds for her. “I just don’t know how to do this,” she says. “Staying friends with an ex, I mean.” It is the first time that she has called Mark her ex out loud, and the word aches with its finality. “Then again, you’re currently working with your ex. Maybe there’s some kind of secret to it that you can teach me.”

“I’m not sure whether Owen and I are a shining example of a healthy breakup,” Joan says. “Everything between us became _extremely_ messy after I found out that he knew about how Mark was being held in Tier 5. There was a lot of shouting and a lot of tears. And a lot of nights immediately afterward when I’d drink a glass of scotch and vent all of my feelings to Vanessa.” A fond smile crosses her lips. “She was technically my first patient when I started my private practice, but I think she ended up giving _me_ therapy more often than not during those first couple of months after Owen and I broke up.”

Sam often forgets that Joan was friends with Chloe’s mom long before Chloe became her patient, and an entire history exists between them that not even Chloe and her telepathy can fully puzzle out. Sam has seen Joan in various states of emotional distress during the time that they have known each other, but she still has trouble picturing the scene of Joan pouring out all of her anger and sadness over drinks. The Turners seem destined to play the role of a shoulder to cry on after a breakup, she realizes as she remembers how Chloe had come over to her house with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream after everything officially ended with Mark.

“Anyway,” Joan continues, “I spent the majority of the past three-plus years hating him, and I’ve only recently realized how tired I am of holding onto those feelings. It’s more beneficial to work with him than against him, so we’ve figured out how to be civil with each other. But from what I’ve seen, you and Mark have already done a good job at keeping things amicable. In all honesty, _you_ should be the one teaching _me_ your secrets.”

Sam laughs. “I must have stumbled into some kind of parallel universe if you think you should use me and Mark as a good example.”

“Oh, very funny.” A smile twitches at the corner of Joan’s mouth, and a bubble of joy rises inside Sam at the knowledge that she has put it there. “Besides, I would have some _very_ strong words for you both if either of you handled the breakup badly. I care about you and Mark too much to be able to accept a world where you’re not on good terms with each other.”

Warmth fills Sam’s heart every time that Joan says that she cares about her, reminding her that she is more to Joan than her former patient who was dating her brother and has now followed her to a job at the AM. “Or maybe you’re just eternally a protective big sister,” she says, choosing not to mention anything about the fond sentimentality that has filled her.

“Well, yes, that too. But my point is that nothing about relationships is easy, especially figuring out how to proceed once one has ended. Owen and I handled that aftermath stage particularly badly, but I have no doubt that you and Mark will get through it just fine.”

The slowing of footsteps outside the open door to Joan’s office catches Sam’s attention. She sees Green in the hallway, stopping in his tracks and then backing up to peer into the office. She wonders how much of her and Joan’s conversation he has heard and whether the sound of his name has drawn his notice.

“Speak of the devil,” says Joan at his presence. Not too long ago, this statement would have been filled with resentment, but now the only edge in her voice is the teasing lightheartedness of giving someone a hard time.

“Oh, surely you don’t think of me as the devil anymore,” replies Green. “I thought we’d moved past that.”

“It’s an expression, Owen,” Joan tells him, equal parts amused and exasperated. “What do you need?”

“I was looking for Sam, actually.” Green nods in her direction. “We’re having some issues with the new file sorting system that you suggested. I was hoping that you could come down to intake and help straighten everything out. Unless the two of you are in the middle of something here, of course. I wouldn’t want to pull you away from anything important.”

Sam looks down at the pages that she is supposed to be looking over, where she has made very little progress over the course of her conversation with Joan. “Sure, I can do that,” she says. She sets aside the folder of papers and stands up from the couch. “Be back in a sec,” she tells Joan.

“Take your time,” Joan replies. “There’s no rush.”

Sam falls into step beside Green as they make their way from the main office block to patient intake. She is about to ask him about the problem with the filing system when he ends up speaking first.

“I heard that Mark left this morning.”

“Yeah, he did.” At first, Sam wonders if the AM has gone back on their promise to not keep Mark under their surveillance, but then she realizes that the far more sensible explanation is that Joan mentioned his departure when informing Green that she’d be coming into work late today. “He’s giving himself a break from… Well, everything, to be honest. Just until the fall, though.”

Green gives a murmur of acknowledgement. “I’m happy to hear that. I regret that the AM wasn’t able to help him adjust to being back in the world after everything that happened to him. We’re supposed to offer that kind of support to atypicals, and we dropped the ball on that one.”

“You dropped the ball by holding him captive for years and experimenting on him without his consent,” Sam points out. She knows that she is being harsh, but even though she and Green have begun to establish a professional rapport she does not want him to think that he is off the hook for the lives that the AM has destroyed while he has been in their employ. “Even if you offered him help, I’m not sure he would have accepted it.”

“Yes. That’s true.” As Green continues to walk beside her, Sam sees the troubled frown upon his face. “I don’t want to fight with you about this, Sam. We’ve both acknowledged that the AM is an imperfect institution, and I can’t take back the terrible things that it has done to some of the atypicals in its care. The fact that Joan’s brother and your boyfriend is one of those atypicals is unacceptable, and I know there isn’t enough time or resources in the world for me to repay him for what the AM took from him.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Sam corrects him, too distracted by the reminder of what she has lost to process the rest of Green’s words.

“Ah. Right. I thought I overheard something along those lines when you and Joan were talking in her office, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions, and—” He clears his throat. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Nothing that Sam can think of to say in response to him feels right, even something as simple as “It’s okay” or “Don’t worry about it.” Instead she continues walking, listening to the fall of her and Green’s footsteps that echo through the halls until she changes the subject with an inquiry of “So, what’s the problem that you’re having with the new filing system?”

“Oh, yes. That.” He unhesitatingly follows her lead when it comes to turning the conversation back to business matters. “I’m sure it will be an easy fix, but when I tried to sort things out myself, I think I just made the problem worse. I don’t want to make a habit of using you for tech support, but…”

“You know that I know my way around a computer,” Sam finishes for him. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to help.”

The intake room is quiet when they arrive, much to Sam’s relief, and it doesn’t take her long to hop onto a computer and fix the errors that have been giving Green trouble. She doesn’t even mind when he hovers over her shoulder as if he hopes to learn something from her, even though she can’t explain her process very well when so much of it is naturally intuitive to her.

“All right, that should do it,” she says, standing up from the chair in front of the computer that she has commandeered. “Let me know if you have any more problems.”

“Thank you so much,” Green replies. Before Sam can find the opportunity to take her leave, he is already speaking again. “You know,” he begins, “there are a few clients coming in this afternoon. One starting an inpatient program, and a couple more who have routine follow-up appointments. If you’d like, I can let you observe some of the intake process so you have a better idea of what it’s like. It might be useful for getting a deeper understanding of the average patient experience here.”

“Oh, well, um…” Sam hesitates, never sure how to bring up how she has seen a lot more of the AM’s practices than Green would expect from someone who has only been working here for two weeks. “With my whole time travel thing, I’ve technically already sat in on a couple of patient intakes,” she admits, deciding to give him an honest response. “Which I know is ethically a little iffy, since I didn’t get permission to be there, but _everything_ about my ability is ethically questionable as soon as I show up in a place with other people in it. And I didn’t recognize anyone that I saw on the trip—not any of the staff members or the clients—so I wasn’t spying on people that I know or anything like that.”

“Ah. I see.” Green’s chuckle seems almost self-conscious, as if he is unsure of how to proceed from here. Sam expects him to scold her, but if he disapproves of her actions he has chosen not to express those feelings out loud. “It seems like you’re always going to be a few steps ahead of me when it comes to these things,” he says instead.

“Sorry,” Sam says. “It was a few months ago, before I was working here, so it’s not like I was going behind your back when I could have just asked you to observe with full permission. And I’m not even sure why you’d want me to sit in on patient intake, anyway,” she adds. “No offense, of course. But isn’t that kind of thing that’s more relevant to the agents and doctors who work directly with the patients? I’m just a researcher who does stuff behind the scenes.”

“I just thought it might be helpful as you develop new ideas for our programs,” says Green. “But I understand if you want to continue working behind the scenes for now. I don’t want to pressure you into anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Maybe someday.” Sam shifts her weight from one foot to the other in her reluctance to commit to Green’s suggestion. “But for now, I’ll be perfectly happy as long as I have files to organize and information to archive.”

“I understand. Speaking of which, I should let you get back to work.” He nods toward the door in permission for her to leave. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time. Or Joan’s time, for that matter, since you seemed to be in the middle of something with her.”

“Don’t worry about it. And let me know if you have any more trouble with the filing system.”

“I will. Thanks, Sam.”

The kindness and gratitude in his smile sets her more at ease, and by the time she has returned to Joan’ office she feels the tiniest bit more prepared to face the new phase of her life that she has entered.


End file.
